"Right? He's a dummy, but I suppose I'll keep him around anyway. I like him a bit."
It's a piece of humour, an attempt at levity to try to knuckle through this moment. Anathema hasn't ever had to go through this before. Every relationship before had been fleeting, temporary, a blip on the radar when she had something far more preoccupying looming over her head, the possible end of the entire world to deal with. And then Newt had been— preordained, but in the end little more than a distraction.
Her fingers flex within Sal's hand, fingers curling in on themselves and then around hers, tightening. "And I love you. You know that, right?"
Her dark eyes are riveted on Sal's, her face solemn and frayed around the edges. Anathema doesn't shy away from the truth or saying how she feels; never has.
no subject
It's a piece of humour, an attempt at levity to try to knuckle through this moment. Anathema hasn't ever had to go through this before. Every relationship before had been fleeting, temporary, a blip on the radar when she had something far more preoccupying looming over her head, the possible end of the entire world to deal with. And then Newt had been— preordained, but in the end little more than a distraction.
Her fingers flex within Sal's hand, fingers curling in on themselves and then around hers, tightening. "And I love you. You know that, right?"
Her dark eyes are riveted on Sal's, her face solemn and frayed around the edges. Anathema doesn't shy away from the truth or saying how she feels; never has.